The Princess and the
by Clar the Pirate
Summary: One would think that a country would not entrust the choosing of their future queen to a vegetable. Not even a very special vegetable just a common, gardenvariety pea! With new! bonus material
1. Director's Cut

_Disclaimer: The Princess and the Pea is H. C. Andersen's story not mine; and if he wasn't dead, he'd probably hit me for what I've done to it._

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One would think that a country would not entrust the choosing of their future queen to a vegetable. Not even a very special vegetable; just a common, garden-variety pea! I _told_ them that I was a princess, a **prime** candidate for throne ascension, but no! In Pea They Trust. They didn't even ask me how I ended up in that storm.

Had anyone been so inclined to be interested in the character, the makeup of their future ruler I would have told them I had a very good childhood. I learnt ordinary princess things like correct hair care and how to scream on cue. But my parents were something of liberals, so my two sisters and I also learnt more unorthodox subjects, hunting, horse riding, and the later very useful rock-climbing. But there are conventions even a king and queen cannot ignore.  
Sure, I may not be blue eye blonde hair gorgeous like Cinders but I **resent** being called ugly. And what's more I was the _second_ sister, I wasn't supposed to talk or even think – just stand behind Petunia and … snigger.  
That's why I ran away.

Could have chosen a better day for it.

I was not an hour out of the palace before the storm broke, as if entire oceans had been ripped into little pieces to be dropped on my head. And the noise, like cannons and fireworks and houses falling down all at once only to be replaced in the next moment by deafening silence.  
I didn't even hear the horse before I was yanked up onto it. My rescuer put his arms, his big _strong_ arms, around me, protecting me from the storm. We talked a little, well, yelled, whatever and by the time we reached his castle we knew we should never be parted.

Apparently bringing home a drowned rat home for supper was normal princely behaviour as we made it across the drawbridge, through the main doors, and up the Great Staircase completely unmolestered, until we reached the dining room.  
And his mother.

Don't get me wrong. The Queen is a lovely lady, I've said so often. Brilliant hostess, can throw together a ball like a fairy godmother on speed. She's just the tiniest bit obsessed with the whole 'princess' thing.  
She travelled sixty-two countries and four continents looking for the one true bride of her darling son. I heard all about it over dinner."Oh, _darling_, do you remember that princess in Lithuamarama? Sang like a bird but had feet the size of saucepans; it was really quite alarming! You see, my dear, only the very best, the perfect princess will do for _my _son. Or that one in, where was it? Guardo! She was doing _so_ well until she tripped over that frog and fell into the pond and came out dripping wet. Ha ha … haa … mmm, well …"The monologue lasted three courses and desert but luckily I was too absorbed in my prince to notice. It wasn't until bedtime I realised she meant business.

_Fifty_ mattresses there were on that bed. Have you ever stopped to think about how high that actually is?  
The average mattress is about 20 centimetres, there were smaller pallets and larger feather ones but they averaged out around twenty. Times by 50, divide by 100 and you get **10**.Ten metres above the ground I was to sleep!

And I did.

Until I rolled over and fell off. But I climbed back up. I became quite the expert at avoiding the satiny finishes, grabbing a firm grasp on the embroidered cotton, learning where the mattresses were slightly shorter giving a toe hold. The ladder was taken away when they tucked me in, but I climbed back up. Every time.

In the morning, I was a quivering exhausted wreck of bruises and the Queen sailed forth and asked how I had slept!  
But it was worth it to see her expression as she examined the purple green flower blossoming on my arm.

The pea is in the Royal Museum, on a little velvet cushion in a glass case. I visit it sometimes to pay my respects, because now I am going to live happily ever after.

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_This was made up for a Speech exam and is supposed to be said aloud, so I'm very interested to know if it works_ _written down. And lo and behold! Through the power of the internet you can. What luck! Go on, push the button._


	2. Extended Edition with Deleted Scenes

_Forthwith is an optional extra which you are under no obligation to read. The story proper is the one back_ _there, I just thought someone somewhere sometime might be interested in the original full story which I overhauled on the eve of my examination because it was at least 3mins over the time limit. It's not the Director's Cut because I fully prefer the present version but think of it as the extended edition, you know like the Lord of the Rings? Filled with completely erroneous detail but fascinating nonetheless.

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A princess? Of course I'm a princess! To suggest otherwise is ridiculous, preposterous and, and completely insulting! I'm married to a crown prince, aren't I? I mean . . .Obviously I am now, but before? I don't know and I've been deliberately been avoiding finding out. My dad's a prince, so technically I must be, right? I would be second in line to the throne if things had worked out like they were supposed to, but as it happened . . . 

You know the story, don't you? Three princes, they go off on some adventure, the first two fail miserably, and the third wins the hand of the princess and half a kingdom. So what happens to the kingdom they come from? That's why Nan and Granddad had my father. Unfortunately, Prince One ch- yes, One and Two were their names. Well, they're dead or gone by the time they're twenty you wouldn't want to form an emotional attachment – anyway, Uno choose the only quest that didn't have a land package with it, so Gregory (that's my third uncle) comes back home with a princess and nowhere to keep her. I suppose it's lucky my dad always preferred astronomy to statecraft. So we moved into a little observatory just outside the capital. And I liked it there, I did, and I love my family, it's just . . . I'm a second daughter. I mean sure I may not be gorgeous blond hair blue eyes like Cinders but I resent being called ugly. And being second, I didn't get to do anything just stand there and snigger. That's why I ran away. That's how I ended up here.

It was a dark and stormy night. You may groan at the cliché but being in it . . . Your entire world narrows down to one step in front of you. The rain is torrential, as if whole oceans have been ripped into shreds to be dropped on your head and the wind beats you black and blue and the cold that ignores all clothing, all skin and flesh to wrap its fingers around your bones. The noise crashes like cannons only to be replaced by long moments of deafening silence, I didn't even hear a horse until I was pulled up onto it. It is very easy to fall in love with whoever saves you from that. And my rescuer was Prince Fitzwilliam James Edward Van Helderen III, with his dark smoldering eyes and big strong arms that wrapped around tight protecting me from the storm. We talked a little bit, well yelled, whatever, and by the time we had reached the castle we knew we should never be parted. That is, if his mother approved.

The Queen is a lovely lady, brilliant hostess, can pull together a royal ball like a fairy godmother on speed, but she just the little tiniest bit obsessed with the whole princess thing. She travelled 42 countries and three continents trying to find the perfect bride for her darling Fitzy. The first time she met me she was not impressed and to be fair I suppose I did bear a striking resemblance to a drowned rat. She kept dropping hints about it "Do you remember that princess in Lithuamarama who sang like a bird but had feet like dinner plates? You see my dear, no one but the perfect princess is worthy for my son. Or that one in Gaurdo, she was doing so well until she lost her balance, fell into the pond and came out dripping wet." Luckily I was too completely absorbed in Fitz to notice. It wasn't until bedtime that I realised she meant business.

50 mattresses there were on that bed. Have you ever stopped to think about how high that actually is? A mattress was about 20 centimeters, there were some smaller pallets and some bigger feather ones but they averaged out at about 20. Multiply by 50 divide by 100 and you get 10. Ten meters above the ground I was to be sleeping. And I did! For about five minutes until I rolled over and fell off. But I climbed back up. I grew quite the expert, avoiding the satiny finishes, grabbing a firm hold on the embroidered cotton, learning where shorter mattresses gave toe holds.

I was an exhausted wreck of bruises the next morning, and the Queen asked how I slept. But it was worth it to see her expression as she examined the purple green flower blossoming on my arm.

The pea is in the Royal Museum, encased in glass on a little purple cushion. I visit it often. Fitz heckles me mercilessly, and my children groan everytime I broach the subject, but I think it's important to pay my respects to the vegetable. Because now I am going to live happily ever after.


End file.
